


Circuses and Catalysts

by completelyhopeless



Series: Puzzle Pieces of Us [7]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mostly Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, i did kind of try to follow canon, minor bit of canon ships, one past dick/zatanna reference, suppose there's a bit that can be taken as dick/babs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Discussions and other things attempt to help Dick continue on and move past his solo mission, but it may take something more than anyone expected to get him past the mission and back to himself. Or at least to being a hero again. In the meantime, he worries just about everyone, though Jason probably has it the worst, afraid that he's about to lose Robin and his family when Dick takes the name and costume back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circuses and Catalysts

**Author's Note:**

> The plan that Bruce mentions that could get Dick back to himself? That's what I almost wrote. Only I didn't because the reason I started this and part of the reason I like the YJ universe is because there isn't a rift between Bruce and Dick, and sooner or later, Dick would have known that Bruce had manipulated him and hated him for it.
> 
> So I started on writing a version that wasn't a manipulation. It was crap. As I got home last night, I knew how to fix it, so I started over. I altered what I had written, used pieces of it (a lot of it was crap) and made it work.
> 
> Well, maybe. I don't know anymore because it's late (early) and I need to get to sleep so I can get up in a few hours and go to work but I felt like I couldn't do that until this was done. I needed to fix the pain of the last one and this wouldn't leave me alone. One sleepless night with it was enough.
> 
> This series is starting to get like Circus Birds. This scares me. :(

* * *

Bruce knew pain.

He had known it many times over the course of his years as Batman. He had learned to master it, to fight through it, but even Batman had limits. He didn't like to think about them, didn't want to admit to them, but he was not invulnerable. He was not immortal. He could die. Someday his wounds would be fatal.

That someday... It felt like today. For all of Joker's words, his insane jokes and laughter, the way he insisted that one of them could not exist without the other, today it felt like the clown had won.

“Batman.”

He grunted. He didn't know that he could answer, and he didn't want to answer the clown, except... Not the clown. “Robin?”

No. Impossible. Robin was with the team. Away on a mission. Batman was alone. Bruce was alone. Robin was safe, with the others.

And Dick... Dick wasn't Robin anymore.

* * *

“I don't even know why we're discussing this,” Dick said, shaking his head. “I'm not going. I can't believe you're even suggesting it.”

“Why wouldn't you want to go?” Clark asked, frowning. “We're not talking about going for a mission. None of us are trying to force you into that. We are talking about you meeting up with your friends.”

Dick looked at Bruce. “Do you want to explain to him why that's a bad idea? I know you know. I don't have to explain it to you or Babs. I am not going to see the team. They know me as Robin. There _is_ a Robin, and it's not me. I don't have an identity to use with them, and if I expose mine, I expose Robin's, Batman's, _and_ Batgirl's. It's not happening. I'm not going.”

Clark gave him a look, and Bruce shrugged. Everyone knew that was just Dick making excuses, though the Kryptonian's insistence on pushing the issue of Dick visiting his old team was starting to annoy Bruce. Dick did not want it. He was actually _afraid_ of it, and considering how many things acted like a trigger for his son right now, Bruce figured the limited contact was best until Dick was doing better with the people in the same house as him.

“Dick,” Barbara began, licking her lips as she tried to find the right words. “You should get out more. You barely leave your room.”

“I'm healing, remember? I'm supposed to stay in one place and not move much.”

“Which you have never done before in your life,” she shot back, daring Bruce or Alfred to disagree with her. Bruce was just glad Jason wasn't here for this conversation. He was at school, where Barbara and Dick technically _should_ have been, but Dick was in no state for that. This wasn't a side Dick would want anyone to see, and if he wasn't hurting and lashing out at everyone because of it, he'd be ashamed of his behavior. Bruce didn't want to add to his guilt—another reason he wasn't interested in forcing Dick to interact with his friends until he felt ready. The others disagreed.

“Perhaps a break is in order, Master Richard,” Alfred said, setting a tray down on the table. The formality of a tea service was probably too much, but it might be familiar enough for Dick to help a little. Bruce was willing to try anything. “Cooler heads may yet prevail.”

“In this room?” Dick snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Bruce managed a small smile. He wished he could see that comment as a sign that his son was regaining his sense of humor, but he didn't think it was.

“If your main objection to seeing your friends is this need to have an identity, why not choose another?” Clark asked, watching Alfred pour a cup of tea and set it in front of Dick. Dick forced a smile, pulling the cup toward him but not drinking from it.

“Clark,” Bruce began in a warning tone. “If Dick says he's not going, he doesn't have to go. Leave him alone.”

“I just thought that if he chose another name—” 

“I don't know that I want one,” Dick said. He pushed the cup around the saucer, not looking up at Clark or any of them. “Can we just drop this? I don't feel like talking about it.”

“No one is saying you have to use it to fight,” Clark said, and Bruce shot him a glare. If he didn't back off soon, he would _not_ be welcome in this house. “It's just to make it so you can visit without feeling like you'd compromise anyone's identity.”

“You could even go as a civilian,” Barbara added. “What about Chester Halliwell?”

“Are you joking?” Dick asked. “Please say you're joking. That's an awful name.”

Barbara smiled. “Says the kid named _Dick.”_

Normally that would have gotten some laughter out of Dick, even if it was after a bit of angry protest. Dick didn't even react. Alfred shook his head, resorting to what might have been drastic measures in other circumstances. He set plate of fresh baked cookies in front of Dick, his favorites, even, and added a second plate to the main part of the table.

“Barbara has a point,” Clark said. “You could go under another name, an ordinary one.”

“And we'd find you one you didn't hate. You don't have to use Chester,” Barbara said, smiling at Dick encouragingly. “I'm sure we can find something you'd like.”

Dick snorted, picking up a cookie and biting into it. He started chewing and then choked on it, spitting it out. He dropped it on the floor and curled into himself, burying his head in his knees as he shook.

“Dick?” Bruce asked, hearing the others echo his question and concern. “What's wrong?”

“Master Richard, if the cookie was not to your liking—”

“I can't have cookies. They're not allowed. Not on my diet. I'll get fat.”

Bruce balled up his fists. Dick was not fat. He was almost dangerously underweight, and Bruce didn't know what that so-called _coach_ was thinking. If he wanted an acrobatic weapon, he needed one with muscle mass. This wasn't right.

“You are _not_ fat,” Barbara said, and when Dick tried to protest, she shook her head. “Would you call me fat?”

“No.”

“Then you are not fat,” she insisted. “You're a guy and have a skinnier waist than _I_ do, and that is not right, even if you _are_ younger than me.”

Dick gave a strangled laugh, leaning over and surprising everyone by almost hugging her. “I love you, Babs.”

She smiled sadly, about to put her arms around him when he pulled away from her. He put a hand on his side and bit down after a hiss and an exclamation of pain passed his lips. Bruce almost swore, knowing exactly which wound was acting up on him now. The damn bastard had practically knifed him in the back.

“Did you pull your stitches?” Alfred asked, moving closer. “I can look at them—”

“No,” Dick almost shouted. He ducked under the table, evading the butler and Superman as he slipped out of the room. Injured or not, metahuman or not, the boy was still fast and slippery as hell.

“Let him go,” Bruce said, hating himself for it as he said it but knowing what Dick needed most at this particular moment was time alone to compose himself. Bruce would go into him in a few minutes—or maybe he'd send Barbara. She still seemed to have the most success getting through to him, even if her earlier pushes hadn't helped before the cookie incident. “He needs time.”

“He may also need professional help,” Clark said. “If that man managed to give him an eating disorder—”

“This is the first we've seen of it,” Alfred disagreed. “He has less appetite than usual, but he has been eating regularly, without being prodded. This was the first time I offered him cookies since his return, and I believe it might also be the first time he partook of something not 'allowed' by his diet. I have been feeding him in accord with what his doctors recommended, things I do not believe were forbidden by that... monster.”

Bruce nodded. He agreed with Alfred's assessment. He also knew that Dick would resist talking to any kind of therapist—he'd even refused to talk to Black Canary when in the past he _had_ been willing to open up to her.

“I... It might help if I joined the team,” Barbara began, getting everyone to look at her. “Dick might find it easier to visit them if I'm there. I still can't believe he hasn't been willing to see Wally, but if he is willing to be around me, then it might make the transition easier for him somehow. I think it's probably because I know too much anyway. I wasn't supposed to hear what he told his parents, but since I did, he doesn't have the same... hangups, I guess, about me and how I might react to what he can do. The rest of the team—they haven't seen him break down and they have no idea what he went through on that mission. He doesn't want them to know, but if I'm there... he has a buffer, I guess.”

“It would be a start,” Bruce agreed. He shook his head. “Don't look at me like that, Clark. I could easily come up with a plan that would force Dick into making a decision. I could manipulate him into doing it, could make that choice for him, but I won't. It needs to be his decision. I could force him, but in the end, it wouldn't heal him and it would make him hate me. Dick needs to do this on his own. It is taking everything I have _not_ to go in there and _make_ him do what I want him to do. I want to fix this for him, and I can't. I can't even go after the man who did this to him. I know who hurt him and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to check on my son.”

* * *

“Dick?”

“I don't want to see them. Why can't any of you accept that?” Dick asked, wishing Batman wasn't as good a detective as he was. He hadn't wanted to be found. He just wanted to be alone.

“Because it's not you,” Bruce said, sitting down next to him. Dick waited. The lecture would come. He should not be on a rooftop. Not in his condition. If they weren't convinced he'd torn his stitches—and he hadn't—they'd be sure he was going to jump off. “You know it isn't. You are one of the warmest, most gregarious kids I know. You have a gift—you make people smile.”

“Do you think any of that was real? Or was that just... an act?”

“It was never an act for me,” Bruce said, and Dick shuddered even though that was a good thing. Bruce hesitated and then pulled him close. “I wish I knew how to take this pain from you.”

“I don't think that's possible.”

“Then I will make that pushy do-gooder downstairs go back in time so I can keep you from going, keep you safe.”

Dick choked on a laugh. “Even if you could, you wouldn't. You don't think it's right to mess with the time stream, remember?”

“I don't,” Bruce agreed. “If you change one thing in the past, what is a second? Where do you draw the line?”

“With you. You're the line, Batman. You've always been the line.”

“No, not always. Sometimes I need Robin to remind me. Like now.”

“Bruce...” Dick sighed. “I'm not Robin. Not anymore.”

* * *

“You know I don't need a babysitter.”

“I am not here to babysit you.”

Jason snorted, shaking his head. He didn't believe Batgirl for a second. He had to figure even if she wasn't babysitting him, she was here to see just how well he did with the team. They wanted him to screw up so that they could use it as an excuse to get rid of him so they could give Dick back his title as Robin. That was why Bruce had sent him off with Superman. Dick hadn't even come to _see_ him since he came back, but when he did, he'd be taking Robin back. Jason knew he would.

“Robin!” Miss Martian ran up and hugged him—she was way too touchy-feely for Jason's taste, and her cookies were _awful_ compared to Alfred's, but she was nice, he supposed. “It's good to see you. You haven't been around in a while.”

“He had a special assignment with Superman,” Batgirl said, and Jason turned to glare at her.

“That's so cool. I don't think any of us have done special work with Superman, not even Superboy,” Miss Martian said, smiling. “I made cookies. Did you want some?”

Jason shrugged. Batgirl nudged him. He elbowed her back. She gave him a look—practically a batglare—and how was she so good at that, anyway? “If you want some, you should get them now. You know how much Kid Flash can eat, and there might not be any left by the time we get there.”

“Definitely are,” Kid Flash agreed, taking a final bite of his cookie when he stopped in front of them. He belched. “Good stuff.”

“Wally!” Miss Martian protested. “You were supposed to share.”

He shrugged. Then he got a good look at Batgirl, and his mouth opened a little. “Uh... hi.”

Artemis hit him hard in the arm. He winced, rubbing it. She rolled her eyes at him before giving Batgirl a smile and holding out her hand. “I'm Artemis. This is Wally, also known as Kid Flash. If he can stop staring, he might still be my boyfriend later.”

“I wasn't—Babe, please. I only have eyes for you, I swear. It's just that I've never seen the batglare coming from... well... her.”

“You mean _a girl?”_

“Uh...”

“Hello, Megan,” Miss Martian said, smacking herself in the head. “You're Batgirl. It's so obvious.”

 _The bat on her chest kind of gives that away,_ Jason thought, rolling his eyes. Sometimes he thought the team was full of idiots, but then they did stuff that he wouldn't have thought of and couldn't do himself, and he figured they had their uses. They were all heroes, and he got to be one when he was with them, and he didn't hate the team. He should, because he was going to lose them and it would be easier if he hated them, but he didn't. They were fun. They were even maybe... friends.

“So,” Kid Flash began, drawing out the word. “Batgirl. You under the same orders as Robin—er, both Robins—about the whole identity thing?”

Batgirl nodded. “I am.”

“Wow. Talk about paranoid,” Kid Flash muttered. “It's not like you're his sister or anything—wait, are you this Robin's sister? I know you're not Batman's daughter, but you could still be Robin's—”

“No,” Batgirl snapped. She must be sick of that question, though Jason didn't remember it ever getting asked in front of him before. He would have figured she would have gotten asked more about being Batman's daughter instead of his sister, but what did Jason know? He was just a replacement, after all.

They should just have _cloned_ Dick Grayson. They didn't want Jason.

Kid Flash could definitely put his foot in his mouth without Jason's help. “His girlfriend?”

“No!” Jason almost shouted. Then he almost smacked his own forehead. He was so stupid. “Oh, you meant the other Robin. You think she's _his_ girlfriend, don't you?”

“I'm not,” Batgirl said before anyone else could continue that. “He's just a good friend. I'm not involved with Batman, either. Are we done now?”

“All right, hold on,” Artemis said, holding up her hands. “Let's just try and stay calm. Please. We're all on the same side here. And this is _so_ not the way to welcome new members.”

“Who said she's a new member? Don't we take votes on that or something?”

Jason snorted. “If they did that, no one would have voted _you_ in. You might be fast on your feet but not with your mouth.”

“Dude! That was mean,” Kid Flash said. “Wait—Why does that sound familiar?”

“Maybe because it's true?” Artemis said, putting a hand on her hip and challenging him.

“Yuck. Can we skip the flirting? It's like all you two do, and it's gross.”

Batgirl cleared her throat. “How about you show me around, Robin? What is it Batman always says? Know your surroundings—”

“Know yourself?” Jason said, not sure that was the answer, but not really caring if it was or wasn't. He was so over Batman's lectures, and it didn't matter. Any day now, Dick was going to take Robin away from him, and there wasn't any point in trying to stop it.

* * *

“Alfred?”

“Master Richard!” Alfred exclaimed, startled by the boy's sudden appearance behind him. As fast as his heart was racing, he had to wonder if this was perhaps not a bad thing at all. “My goodness. I did not hear you come down.”

“Um, that might be because I'm kind of good at stealth,” Richard said. He forced a smile. “Or I used to be. It's been a while since I tried it. I think I'm kind of rusty at... everything.”

Alfred frowned. He turned to face the boy, studying him. The past months had taken their toll on the lad and frankly, Alfred hated to see it. Most of the marks sustained during his time away had faded, though some of the worst ones had left their scars. None of those, of course, were in plain sight. Even if the emotional wounds were not the greater in this case, most of the wounds Richard had received had been concealable underneath his clothes, and unseasonable as the long sleeves might have been, the boy had been wearing them almost constantly to cover the lingering marks.

He was too thin, and his spirits were lower than Alfred had seen them since the first days of his time at the manor, just after his parents had died. Such a sight was one he had hoped never to see again, though there were times that had come close over the year, nothing was like this.

“I am sorry,” Alfred apologized, knowing his tasks in the batcave could wait and should have so that the teenager was not alone in the house. “I should never have forced you to come down here to find me. What did you need?”

Richard blinked. “Why would I have to need something to find you?”

“I fear, young sir, that you have not wanted much of anything from me or anyone since your return home,” Alfred said. “Is it the wound on your side? I had feared it might become infected—”

“It's fine. It hasn't bothered me since the other night when I tried to hug Babs,” Richard said, frowning. He looked down at his side and shook his head. “I don't even know why I did that. She's not really into my hugs, you know? And I thought I'd stopped giving them because it was too...”

“Unpleasant?”

Richard nodded, looking away at the empty cave. “I... I don't _want_ them to feel like that, but.. You know how coaches are... father figures?”

“Yes.”

“That guy... the one I was working to take down... he... he had a warped idea about coaching and about fathers and...” Richard shook just a little, rubbing his hands over his arms like he was chilled despite his warmer clothing. “I _know_ Bruce is different. I know he is, he always was, but when he tries—I can't—it blurs and I freeze and I push him away. Every time. I don't know what else to do. I can't let Bruce be that guy. I just... _can't.”_

Alfred nodded, wishing there was some way of pushing those memories from the boy's head and helping him recover his relationship with the man who truly was his father and mentor and much more. “Of course not.”

Richard put his hands in his pockets and fidgeted. “It's too quiet in the house, but I think it's worse down here. I knew he'd be—they'd be—gone—but it's...”

“I had rather believed solitude was what you wanted,” Alfred said. He would not have left the boy alone if he had believed for a moment otherwise. He was not one to force his company on someone who did not want it, and having observed how that sort of behavior from the others had not improved matters, he had refused to do so himself. “You have been quite determined to avoid all of us and this cave since your return.”

Richard's eyes went to some of the trophies in the room and he grimaced. “I... I don't know how to be around anyone anymore. It's... It's just easier if I'm not. And the cave... I said it was full enough before, but now it really is, isn't it? With Barbara and Jason...”

“I have always felt this place was all too dark and depressing,” Alfred disagreed. “It owes much, I believe, to the presence of you and your counterparts, that it has not become more of a tomb or mausoleum. You have brought laughter to even the darkest places.”

“Not me. I... I don't think I _belong_ in here.”

Alfred stared at the boy in shock. “You not belong in the batcave? Impossible. Since almost the very day you set foot in this house you had a place here. It was, in part, because of your personal tragedy, but it was also because of your determination, bravery, and intelligence. You are an exceptional young man, and you always have been. Why would you believe otherwise?”

“I...” Richard shook his head. “I should go back to my room. I don't...”

“Master Richard, though it goes rather against my nature, I believe I will have to insist that you hug me because I fear someone is in great need of one.”

The teenager blinked, staring at Alfred in shock. “What?”

Shaking his head, Alfred took a step closer and pulled the boy into his arms. “I do not know what happened on that mission, nor, I fear, do I want to know, but what I do know is that you are the best thing that has ever happened to Master Bruce or myself, and this home would be—indeed, it was—incomplete without you. Miss Barbara has been a good challenge for him, always refusing to back down unless he has sound reasons for her to do so, and I believe she has been right more than he wants to admit. Jason is an admirable young man, still growing into his... potential, and I am glad he is here. Neither of them is a replacement for you and never would be. Not as Batman's partner, as Robin or as Bruce's son.”

“He's allowed to have more than one kid.”

“I know that, and so does he. I am not sure Jason understands the concept, but I hope he will in time. I just do not want _you_ to forget it.”

Something beeped on the computer, and Richard used the distraction to pull away from Alfred, leaving him standing there as he fled back into the house.

* * *

“You did good tonight,” Bruce said, giving Jason a pat on the back and a smile. The boy had been distant all week, and Bruce would have been an idiot not to know why—Jason had been acting out since Dick returned—but they still managed to work together. Not, perhaps, in the same fluid way that Bruce worked with Dick, he didn't know that he'd ever have that kind of effortless connection again, but Batman and Robin remained a good team.

“I... what?”

“Jason,” Bruce said, wanting to stress that he knew exactly who had come through for him tonight. “You saved lives tonight. I'm very proud of you.”

“I... You are?”

“Yes. I always have been,” Bruce said, being honest. Somehow that went wrong, though, and Jason pushed him away, running toward the stairs like he didn't remember the rules about his costume. Bruce almost started after him, but Alfred's voice stopped him.

“You might wait on that, sir.”

“Alfred?”

“I think, sir, that you must do more to convince that child that you have no intention of taking Robin from him,” Alfred informed him. Bruce frowned. “He is still convinced—I believe because he has yet to hear the words that we all have from Master Richard, the ones we find so very distressing—that he has no intention of becoming Robin again—that Richard will replace him and no one will want him afterward.”

“That is not true.”

“I know,” Alfred agreed. “I do, and I believe Miss Barbara does as well, and Richard perhaps feels it _too_ much. However, Jason does not.”

“I'll talk to him. I'll do it as soon as I've changed—”

“There is more, Master Bruce. Richard believes he no longer has a place down here.”

Bruce groaned. He did not know how to help either of his boys, and he couldn't help Dick without alienating Jason and vice versa. Damn it. “Alfred, what the hell do I do? I can't... I have been trying to reach Dick without pushing him, and I've tried to keep Jason from feeling like I only care about Dick, but if I don't give Dick what he needs now, I'm going to lose him forever and—”

“I believe what all your children need is to know they have a place with you _together_ with their siblings. As much as Richard feels he cannot be around others, it is not aiding his recovery or Jason's feelings of resentment. He needs to see that Richard _does_ need help and that is why he has been our concern of late. Both of them need to have a place at your side, and they need it now.”

Bruce nodded. Alfred was right. He always was. “Find out where Haly's circus is and get the jet ready. Clear Jason's absence with the school and pack our bags.”

“Of course.”

“And Alfred?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you.”

* * *

“This is such a bad idea.” Dick said, looking up at the plane. “Bruce, you know this is a bad idea. Me and planes?”

“Since when are you afraid of planes, Former Boy Wonder?” Barbara asked, and Dick turned around, staring at her. Jason looked at them and shook his head. He didn't need to watch _them_ flirting, too. It was bad enough being around the team. He didn't know who was worse—Miss Martian and Superboy or Artemis and Kid Flash.

“Oh, great. This is an intervention, isn't it?” Dick shook his head. “Why can't you just _stop_ it? I don't want _any_ of this.”

“I think you'll like this,” Bruce told him, putting a hand on his shoulder that made Dick jump and shove Bruce off of him, the violent reaction shocking the hell out of Jason but only making Barbara wince. Bruce didn't even try to stop Dick. He just let it happen until Dick stopped himself. “Trust me on this. Please, Dick.”

Dick shuddered, and Barbara moved in, not touching him, just close enough to where he could reach for her if he wanted. “I happen to agree. When Alfred told me about it, I couldn't believe we hadn't done this before.”

“Um, Babs, there's... Well...”

“He means we never did stuff as a family because he was still keeping his work with you a secret before he left and he was too busy preparing everyone for him leaving to think of doing things as a group—a family,” Bruce said. He looked at all of them in turn. “That ends now.”

“Wait, since when are we a family?” Jason demanded as the apparently speechless Dick was herded into to the airplane. He ran after them. “We're not—”

“We are,” Bruce said, using the _don't argue with me_ voice. “Get on the plane. All of you.”

* * *

“We're _not_ family,” Jason hissed under his breath. “We're _not.”_

Barbara reached over and took his hand, knowing part of the reason that Jason was saying that was how worried Bruce looked as he watched over Dick. Barbara didn't think Dick was doing much sleeping, judging from the way he'd actually gone to sleep within a few minutes of sitting down on the plane. Bruce was waiting for him to have a nightmare, and she had to admit, she was, too.

“Jason—”

“I just don't see why they keep going on _pretending._ I don't. He's back, so why don't they just... send me away?”

She covered his hand with both of hers. “I promise you that no one is going to send you away. Even if they thought about it—and I don't believe they have—I wouldn't let that happen. You're too cute a little punk to let go of, but besides that—”

Dick cried out, using some other language that Barbara didn't recognize, and Bruce tried to comfort him, but he lashed out and smacked Batman right in the face.

“Uh,” Jason said, staring at what he'd just seen.

“You might have guessed that a few things went... wrong on Dick's mission,” Barbara said, getting Jason's attention back on her. “I don't know all of it because Bruce hasn't told me and Dick hasn't told me—not all of it, I know part of it because he said something when he didn't know I was there—but it was bad. Bad enough, I've learned, that Dick was on the Watchtower in a coma for a while after the mission. You're seeing him after he's already recovered, but Bruce... he saw him when he was hurt.”

Jason frowned. “I don't... He wasn't gone to the Watchtower any more than usual, though. We went on patrol every night before Dick came back. He didn't... I didn't even know...”

“Dick escaped the Watchtower and came back before they were going to release him. No one knew. Not you, not me, not Dick's team—not even Alfred,” Barbara said, and now Jason was staring at her. Alfred knew everything. For Alfred not to know, it was big. She sighed. “Dick hasn't been the same since he got back. You've heard of post traumatic stress disorder?”

Jason nodded. “I—You think Dick has that?”

“We _know_ Dick has that. He hasn't avoided you because he doesn't care about you,” Barbara said. “He has avoided you—and everyone, all of his friends—because he is afraid of hurting you. And them. You saw earlier. Dick attacked Bruce. He didn't intend to—he just did.”

“Then...” Jason put a hand to his head. “Dick... You called him 'Former Boy Wonder.'”

She grimaced. That was a bad idea, but she couldn't take back the words. “Dick isn't going to take Robin from you. So, please, just try and enjoy today. It won't be easy for anyone, but all of us need this in some way or other, and Bruce really is trying.”

“I guess I'll try, then, too.”

* * *

“This is...”

Bruce looked back, waiting for one of his sons to make an insulting comment and hoping the other wouldn't run when he saw what Bruce had done, where they'd brought him. He'd honestly been tempted to drug Dick to get him here, but he knew he was already risking things just by his choice of “bonding” activity. He had hoped that bringing Dick back to his roots would help stabilize him, and it would give Jason a chance to see that Dick was... human. Very human. Not some ideal, some impossible image to be held against and always considered a failure.

Jason was _not_ a failure.

“Ew! Something wet just touched me! And what is that—”

“Zitka!” Dick cried, moving past his brother to embrace the elephant. “I think I'm jealous. You said hello to my little brother first. Then again, I suppose that shows that you've got good taste, right, girl?”

“You... _like_ this elephant?”

“Like her?” Dick asked, blinking in confusion as the elephant in question wrapped her trunk around his still-too-thin waist. “I _love_ her. She's been my friend forever, though I don't get to see her as often as I'd like. I have missed this...”

Barbara snapped a picture with her camera, but Dick didn't even seem to notice. He was too focused on his elephant. This, Bruce thought with a smile, was the right choice.

“I don't know who you are, but the elephants are not— _maledizione,_ how did I not recognize you? Well, you've grown, for sure, but I should have known _topolino_ anywhere,” the man said, and Dick forced a smile for him. “Though perhaps we shouldn't call you _topolino_ anymore. You're getting big.”

“He's still pretty scrawny in my opinion,” Barbara said with a slight smile.

Dick gave her a look, and she stuck her tongue out at him, getting laughter from Jason, which made this trip already well worth it in Bruce's opinion. He put a hand on Jason's shoulder. “You want some cotton candy?”

“You're letting me have—”

“Alfred isn't here, is he?”

“No,” Jason said with a grin, and Bruce smiled back at him before gently guiding him away from Dick and the elephant, hoping he was making the right choice in letting Dick connect to his past on his own.

* * *

“I told you, Dick. You're always welcome here.”

“I know, Mr. Haly,” Dick said, trying to find a way not to feel like he was intruding. The circus used to be his home. He'd been here, not long ago, but he had been pretending to be someone else and he'd been with the team. He hadn't been himself, he hadn't even been “Dan Danger.” He'd been Robin, and that...

That might be the difference that changed everything.

“But you don't feel like you should be here,” Haly said. When Dick stared at him, the older man smiled. “Don't forget—I saw you grow up. I know it's been years, even since the last time you came to us and saved us, but I still know you. I know that look.”

Dick swallowed. He let out a breath, still not sure why he'd been left alone, even if Haly's was his home once. They were all so overprotective of him now. He knew that he didn't go anywhere alone, not really. The house was full of surveillance equipment and Dick knew he was being recorded. He wouldn't doubt that Bruce would have been willing to reprogram a satellite just to track him or that even that Alfred would and probably _had_ sewn trackers into all of his clothes.

“I had kind of a rough year.”

“Studying abroad?”

Dick didn't think Haly was stupid enough to buy that. It was mainly for the media, and they'd been only too happy to buy paparazzi pictures of Dick Grayson, billionaire's ward, from all over Europe. “It wasn't what I thought it would be.”

“And you came home because you need to find the ground again?”

Dick frowned. “The ground? Why would I—well, if I wanted to be grounded, sure, but I don't know that it's the ground I need. I mean, I get why people would say I need that. I lost focus. I wasn't really... It wasn't... I kind of lost myself a bit.”

Haly nodded. Even someone only seeing the tabloids would buy that. “I figured, from those pictures.”

“They were f—” Dick wished he could tell everyone they were faked because _someone_ —he kind of thought it might have been Wally—though why Wally would want to embarrass him like that he didn't know but none of the adults would have wanted it for Robin, sweet little Robin, to be in that kind of a situation—had leaked pictures of Dick with enough girls in enough compromising or questionable situations to give Bruce's fake reputation a run for its money, and that had not been part of Dick's plan. “They weren't as bad as they looked.”

“No?”

“I... I was kind of seeing someone. It wasn't... It was over before I left, and we're still friends,” Dick said. Zatanna _had_ agreed it was best, and he knew it hadn't ever been on the level of his friends' relationships. “It wasn't like that. Not like the pictures.”

“I didn't figure it was. I knew your father. I knew how much he loved your mother. Once he found her, that was it. When you find that special person, it will be much the same for you.”

“Are you telling me Dad had wild parties and—no. Just _no._ I really don't need to hear about Dad before he met Mom. I think I'd rather keep the fairy tale. I liked her version of it,” Dick said, lowering his head. He didn't need another part of his childhood corrupted, even if it was true and his father had to have known other women before his mother.

“I do not think _any_ of that is what you need. Nor is the ground. What you need, Dick, is in the air, and it always has been.”

Dick frowned. “The air... The trapeze?”

Haly laughed. “What else could I mean? You are a Flying Grayson. You belong up there.”

That was true, but he'd almost definitely pull his stitches and he'd scare _everyone_ and it would hurt because he was out of practice even if he'd been trained hard by his last coach and was almost used to doing routines in pain thanks to that bastard.

“I think I'd need a net.”

“Now I _know_ something is wrong.”

* * *

“Whoa. I thought you said he got hurt.”

“I did. He did.”

Jason gave Barbara a dirty look. The last thing Dick seemed to be was _hurt._ He was up on a damn trapeze and he was doing _flips._ He was flipping through the damn air like... like it was nothing. Like he could _fly._ He was _flying_ up there. He was Robin. He really was, and Jason didn't care what Barbara said. Dick was going to want that back.

How would a guy who could fly like that _ever_ want to stop?

Jason didn't, and he wasn't even as good at it as Dick was.

Bruce grabbed hold of Jason's shoulder, pulling him toward him. Jason struggled, but Bruce's grip almost seemed protective. Scared? Was Bruce Wayne—Batman—actually _scared?_ How could he be? Was that even possible? Since when was Bruce afraid of anything?

“Dick...”

“He was doing it before he could walk,” Barbara said. She was worried, too. “That's what he always tells me. He... He'll be okay. You brought him here for a reason. You knew he needed this.”

“The circus,” Bruce disagreed. “I knew he needed the circus. Him being up there on the trapeze? That's more like suicide and he knows it. He was stabbed in the back and that hasn't healed, damn it. What is he doing?”

“Being Robin,” Jason said with a sick feeling in his stomach. “He's being Robin.”

“No,” Bruce said, voice still troubled. “He's something else now.”

* * *

“We need them.”

Bruce glanced back at the others, shaking his head as he watched “his” children. Two of them were napping almost peacefully, but the third's sleep was troubled. Again. He didn't want to have to keep worrying about that one, but while Jason was reckless at times, Barbara was level-headed and competent, one he almost never needed to worry about—and arguably had no right to worry about since Barbara was Jim's daughter, not his.

That didn't matter. She wore his symbol, and she was a good friend to one of his sons and a protective older sister to the other. She was as much a part of Bruce's family as the boys were, and Alfred was right to make that clear by sending her along today.

Still, Bruce was not over the scare Dick had given him earlier.

“I can't spare them, Clark. You need to find someone else.”

“Most of the team is already on a mission,” Clark reminded him. “Yes, I know, three of the more senior members are not but even so, I don't think we should entrust this just to them. They need help, and it can't be from the League. I wish it could be, but it can't. I shouldn't even be taking this time to argue it with you because we do not have it.”

Bruce ground his teeth together. “If we don't have time, then it's already too late. We're not at home.”

“That's a flimsy excuse and you know it. You could find a closer zeta tube if you needed to, but you won't. What happened?”

“Dick... I took him to Haly's. I thought it would help.”

“I wish I'd thought of it. I would have suggested it sooner if I had,” Clark said. “Then again, it sounds like it wasn't as good a plan as I'd have thought.”

“He... He was on the trapeze.”

“In his condition?”

“He almost killed himself,” Bruce said in a low voice, strangled and foreign. “He didn't jump off and try for the ground. He was doing his routine with a net, but it was still dangerous, especially in his condition. He did it _hurt._ He should have been in too much pain to keep going, but he _did._ Like he did with that bastard he took down, that _coach._ I still feel like—like we're all lucky he didn't just jump off there and fall like his parents did. You have to find someone else. I don't feel right leaving him alone right now.”

“I am asking for Robin and Batgirl, not you or Dick. You can stay with him. I know you hate leaving Gotham alone, but you've done it before, and you'll do it for your son.”

The son Bruce still didn't know how to reach. He saw Dick starting to twitch and sighed. “How dangerous is this mission?”

“No more than any of the others, I promise.”

“If anything—and I mean _anything_ happens to them—”

“I know. Just take care of Dick while they're gone. It might even be what he needs, some time alone with you.”

Bruce doubted that, and he hated himself, but he hung up the phone. He had to start preparing Jason and Barbara now.

* * *

“Good,” Batman said, looking at the teens assembled around him. “You're all here.”

“Not _all_ of us,” Jason muttered, and Batman looked at him. He shrugged, not letting the batglare get to him. He knew they all would rather have Dick here. Bruce, Barbara _and_ the team. They all wanted Dick here as Robin, not Jason. Batman should have just brought him along. He was the one who _should_ be here, right?

“That is true,” Batman agreed. “With the other members of the team already on assignment, it falls to you five to handle this mission.”

“Five?” Kid Flash asked, frowning. “Wait a minute. You're—”

“Robin and Batgirl will be accompanying you, yes.”

Batgirl blinked. “Both of us? Now? You can't. You need at least one of us back in Gotham. What about—”

“I can handle the city while you're gone. I did so for years before I first took a partner,” Batman told her, almost sounding amused, if totally missing the point. Not that Jason expected him to admit that this was exactly what he wanted, that he was sending them _both_ away so he could have his old partner back. “You and Robin are the only ones available, and you are needed here.”

“Yeah, sure we are,” Jason muttered. “You want me to turn in the uniform now or after the mission?”

Batman frowned. “I don't expect you to—”

“He's back, isn't he? And they all want him back and you want him back, so why should I keep this?” Jason asked, almost ripping off the mask right then and there. Batgirl put her hand on his shoulder, and Batman lowered Jason's hand away from his face, kneeling next to him.

“He's not coming back. I thought you understood that.”

“What do you _mean_ he's not coming back?” Kid Flash demanded. “You said the other team—no one died, right? Tell us no one died. We would know if someone died on the team. We'd get told. And if the whole team went—no, not possible because they're not all in the same place. They're not. So what are you—no.”

“What's going on?” Miss Martian asked, frowning. “I know I'm not supposed to read everyone's minds, but I'm starting to get worried here, too, and I think we all need an explanation.”

“Robin,” Artemis said, grimacing. “Not our Robin, not the one that's here. Wally means the other one. The first one.”

Miss Martian looked pale. “He's not, is he? Not dead. You would have told us if he was.” 

“He's not dead,” Kid Flash insisted. “Robin just said he's not dead. He said he was back. He's back. He's not dead. But... where is he?”

Batman looked like he wanted to hit something. Maybe Kid Flash. Maybe Jason. “He is alive and he is back. He is, however, not rejoining the team at this time.”

“Not rejoining—what happened?” Kid Flash was losing control fast. “Why didn't you tell us he was back? Why are we just hearing about this now? He's hurt, isn't he? He's like in a coma or something. He has to be, or he would have called me.”

Batman ignored the questions. “I need to brief you on your mission.”

“Batman,” Barbara began, still brave since she almost never backed down under that glare of his. “None of them will be able to concentrate on the mission if we don't tell him how he really is. If you want them—us—focused, then you need to tell them.”

Batman grunted. He clearly hated this, but Jason knew Babs had already won their argument. “He is currently recovering from his injuries at home.”

“Injuries?” Kid Flash squeaked. “What injuries? How bad is it?”

Batman shook his head. “Irrelevant. Time is of the essence in this mission and you need to focus on it. You are all running out of time. Either you leave for the mission now or you accept failure and civilian casualties. Can you handle this mission or not?”

“That is _so_ not fair,” Kid Flash said. “What kind of monster asks that?”

“We can handle the mission,” Artemis said firmly. “We _will_ handle it.”

Kid Flash looked at her like she'd betrayed him. “How can you say that? He just told us Rob is alive but won't say what happened to him or why he's not here or why he—”

“He's strong, remember? He stays traught better than any of us,” she insisted. “He'll be here when we get back, and you can run right to him and make sure he's okay. Right now, it's time to do what we do and save lives.”

“Yeah, all right,” Wally agreed. He didn't like it, everyone could see that. He looked at Batman. “Rob really is okay, right? You're not just lying to get us to go on the mission?”

“He's fine,” Jason snapped. “He'll probably be back next week and you can all enjoy having the _real_ Robin for a change.”

“Hey,” Miss Martian said, her eyes tearing up. “Just because we knew another boy as Robin has never made you any less real to us.”

“She's right. You are a member of this team and we would all love to call you by your real name if we knew it because while you're a good guy, you are more than some kid in a Robin suit, okay?” Artemis said, touching Jason's shoulder. “You know you actually made it on the team when you were younger than he was?”

“You're lying.”

“She's not,” Batman said, almost sounding like he might regret allowing that. He knelt down next to Jason. “Listen to me. I don't want you taking any unnecessary risks out there. You have nothing to prove. Not to me, not to anyone. And so help me, if you make me regret letting you go on this mission like I regret letting your brother go on his, I will lock you both inside for the rest of your lives. I mean that. I don't think I could take having both of you injured at the same time.”

Jason blinked. “But I'm not... He's...”

“Did Batman actually say—” Artemis clamped her hand over Kid Flash's mouth, that was for the best because what he might have said about Batman hugging Robin would so have gotten him fried by the batglare at the very least. At worst... Well, Jason figured Batman _really_ wanted someone to punch. Or something, because he still couldn't believe that had just happened. Batman had just hugged him. In front of everyone.

Batman let him out of the hug but didn't release him all the way. “Stay alive. That's an order.”

He nodded numbly, feeling overwhelmed. “I... okay.”

Batman stood, looking at Barbara. “You be careful as well. I want all of you back in one piece. No unnecessary risks or added heroics or just plain stupidity. Go in smart, go in careful, get the job done and come home. If you think you can't handle it, admit it and accept help. That goes for all of you. None of you is invulnerable. None of you is perfect. Watch out for yourselves and for each other.”

“Always,” Miss Martian said, nodding solemnly.

“Just tell us what you need us to do,” Artemis agreed. “We'll get it done.”

* * *

Kid Flash zipped back out of the bioship before Barbara could board it, cornering her by herself. She could have laid him out flat, but she didn't want to, not when they had a mission and this was hard enough as it was.

“It's bad, isn't it?”

“Kid Flash—”

“You may as well call me Wally, Babs. I know I'm not as great a detective as Batman is or Dick is, but I know him, and it wasn't hard to figure you out after that,” Wally said. He folded his arms over his chest. “I know it's bad because he just hugged Jason in front of us. So, tell me, how bad is it?”

She shook her head. “We really don't have time for this.”

“Tell me and we'll go but you _know_ me. You know I won't be able to focus until I know. And if you're thinking it'll be worse if I don't know—”

“His mission was a success, but he got hurt when they took the bad guys down, at least from what I've picked up from Batman and him. He won't talk about it. He's back at home, but he hasn't wanted to see anyone.”

“That's it?” 

She sighed. “I've told you what I can. I don't even know the details of the mission he was on.”

“But you've seen him? He's okay. He's really alive and okay and—”

“He was on the trapeze today,” she said, not adding that he should not have been, never should have gone up there with his injuries and could have really hurt himself even with a net below him. “Now get in the bioship. We have a mission to focus on.”

“Sure thing,” Wally said, grabbing hold of her and rushing her inside. He grinned at Artemis and Barbara shook her head. She knew she'd held back the worst, but at least Wally would be focused on the mission. She wasn't sure if _she_ could.

* * *

“Damn it!”

“Language, sir.”

“Alfred, I just sent Robin and Batgirl on a mission and now the Joker has escaped from Arkham,” Bruce said, slamming a fist onto the computer desk. He shook his head. “I can't do this. Not now. I know I have to stop him. If I don't go, he'll kill people until I do. I know that. Everyone does. That's why I get the damn call. It's why if I was ever going to kill someone, it would have to be him, though I would love to get my hands on that man that did this to Dick...”

“Sir, if I may—”

“I'm not going to kill anyone,” Bruce said, letting out another breath. He turned back to face the man that was so much more than butler or friend or even father to him. “I need you to watch over Dick while I'm gone. I hate leaving him now. Haly's wasn't what I hoped for—I knew it wouldn't be an instant cure, but I didn't think he'd go on the damn trapeze in his condition—”

“He didn't,” Alfred exclaimed in horror, and Bruce realized he'd left that detail out from earlier. Dick had been all smiles telling Alfred about Zitka—that kid was way too good at hiding the pain—and must have eaten enough to pass Alfred's standards before retreating to his room or Alfred would never have come downstairs, but now that pretense was gone.

“He did. I'm not sure what the hell he was thinking or if he was, but he did. Maybe he wanted to prove he still could, maybe he's still under the delusion that he has to because that coach would have made him do it. I don't know. I just know he shouldn't be alone, so keep watch over him. Please.”

“Of course, sir. I would have regardless, but I will be even more vigilant now.”

“Good. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

* * *

Alfred stopped to check in on his charge again, shaking his head as he saw that Master Richard had once again kicked off his blanket. He crossed over to the boy, picking it up and covering over him again. Watching him now, in his troubled slumber, was too much like those first few helpless days when the boy had just lost his parents and Bruce had been too focused on finding Zucco instead of caring for the young boy he'd taken in.

“You are too strong to let any of this beat you, just as it has not beaten you before, when you lost your parents or were harmed by one of this city's worst,” Alfred said, wishing he could comfort the child more, but he did not want a repeat of the cookie incident, either. “I would like to see you smile again—and not one of those ones for my benefit or anyone else's, but one that you mean and feel. I will keep hoping for that. In the meantime, Master Richard... Sleep well.”

Alfred crossed back to the door, giving him a final look before shutting it behind him. He had other duties he should attend to, though he would stick to ones that would keep him close to Richard's beside in case he was needed.

He did hope that Master Bruce would return quickly.

* * *

Dick didn't need to be a detective to know that something had gone wrong. He could feel it even before he woke up, even with as much as he tried to dismiss that as nothing more than yet another nightmare. Still, the quiet in the house was unnerving, and one look in Bruce's room told him that Bruce hadn't been to bed.

Barbara and Jason were on a mission, so there wasn't much point in checking Jason's room, but he did anyway, just a quick peek, and also one into the room Babs used here—Alfred insisted on her being able to have her privacy for things above the cave as well as down in it as was only fair, though Dick was kind of amused by how crowded the batcave really was these days. He wasn't sure any more of them would fit if they had to keep making space for new members.

Going downstairs, he stopped in the kitchen, knowing Alfred had already checked—twice—with food, but assuming Dick was asleep, he'd brought it back down here and left the tray ready for his next attempt. Dick grimaced. He didn't want to make more work for anyone, but the truth was, he'd gotten out of the habit of eating breakfast and now he only choked it down so that they wouldn't fuss at him. Pretending to be asleep to get out of it was easier.

He'd be hungry later, he promised himself, forcing images of breakfast with his former coach far from his mind as he headed back out of the kitchen. If Alfred wasn't here, then Dick knew where he was. Bruce would be down there, and Dick should get the lecture about the trapeze out of the way sooner rather than later. He was sore, but the stitches had held by some miracle, and he'd _liked_ being back on the trapeze. Even with the pain, he felt better up there than he had in a long time.

He found Alfred alone, and he would swear that the old man had fallen asleep in front of the computer. That was another very bad sign. He touched Alfred's shoulder gently as he called the butler's name. “Alfred?”

Despite Dick's efforts, Alfred was startled. He almost jumped from the chair. “Master Richard! You nearly gave me a fright. Again.”

“I'm sorry. I just... The house was empty. Bruce isn't back. Jason and Barbara aren't back. You don't usually wait down in the cave unless someone's hurt. Or missing. Did something happen on their mission? Is that why Bruce left?”

“No, no,” Alfred assured him quickly. “I was told they would not return for another day, which did not please the commissioner or would not had he not felt his daughter better off outside of Gotham. I fear he may be right as Master Bruce was called away on another emergency.”

“Something local, then. Was it Arkham?”

“Yes, it was,” Alfred answered with a sigh. “I fear we will not see Master Bruce for a while, either. He always takes these matters so personally, and while I know he did not want to go out—”

“If he stays away when the Joker is out then more people die because the Joker wants his attention,” Dick said, and Alfred nodded unhappily. Bruce must have said the same thing. “How long has it been since you heard from him?”

“Too long, I fear.”

* * *

“Haven't you learned by now, Batsy? Caring is a weakness, and you always care so very much...”

Batman groaned, trying to pick himself up off the ground. Trust Joker to use the people Batman assumed he was saving against him. The trap had been clever. Too clever. He'd walked into it without even realizing Joker was a part of it until too late.

He was unfocused, too worried about his children. He'd been distracted and he'd paid for it.

He needed to get up or he would die paying for it.

He forced himself into motion, needing to stop the Joker before anyone else got hurt.

* * *

Alfred hadn't asked, but he didn't have to. Dick had tried to be satisfied with calling in tips to the police department, but Alfred's unasked questions had echoed in his own head—how long would it be enough to leave it in the police's hands? How long would he wait for Bruce and would it be too late if he _did_ decide to act? Would he call the Justice League in—or was that even an option? 

Dick didn't know. He'd been more focused on local events than global ones, though he had heard of a few things in passing that made him think the League might have their hands full as well—he didn't know that Bruce would have let Barbara and Jason go if there was another option, and since they were gone, Dick assumed there wasn't. He'd hacked the files on the Arkham breakout, and he'd done research, using everything he knew and any new information Bruce had to give the commissioner and the rest of the police hints on where to look for the escapees, but as much as he respected Barbara's dad, Dick _knew_ he could do more.

He just... wasn't.

“He'd have both our heads if we contacted the League.”

Alfred nodded. “Especially if it proved unnecessary.”

Dick leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. “Shouldn't you be lecturing me on resting and getting back to bed?”

“I suppose I should, especially after your behavior the other day,” Alfred said. He let out a breath. “I fear I find this behavior—by which I mean your stubborn insistence on remaining at that computer and doing everything you can to help—more acceptable than your recent habit of spending most of the day in your room if not in your bed, as you have for the past few weeks. I might even go so far as to say that this is the first time I've seen you act like yourself in those same weeks.”

Dick sighed. “I... I got really lost, Alfie. It was bad.”

“I know.”

“It's been too long.”

“It has.”

Dick closed his eyes, taking in a breath and letting it out. He forced himself up and opened his eyes to face Alfred's worried gaze. “Call the League.”

“Are you certain—”

“We both need sleep, and we can't help him like this. Call the League.”

“Yes, Master Richard.”

* * *

Lying to Alfred was wrong.

Dick had already done enough of it lately to where it couldn't bother him, and if he'd even started to think about what he was doing beyond the lies to Alfred, he would have stopped himself and run far away. He didn't. He didn't really know that Alfred was interested in stopping him, either.

He knew Alfred had some hope of Dick returning to some form of work because there was no way that the stuff sitting half unpacked in the store room was for any of the others. Too small for Bruce for sure, and that armor was not meant for a woman. That much was clear in an instant. It also couldn't have been for Jason. The kid was still too small to have outgrown the Robin suit and he remembered Alfred making at least one remark about how Dick had gotten taller since he left on the mission. Thin and tall, neither of which really fit Jason, though Dick did have a feeling his “little” brother would be taller than him when he got older.

He pushed that thought aside.

The new gear was all black, no colors to mark it as Robin's, no bat on it to mark it, either.

That was fine by Dick. He didn't need any kind of mark, not yet.

This was probably just a one-off. He was only doing this because there wasn't anyone else. He'd snuck back to listen to Alfred's call to the League, and he knew that they couldn't spare anyone just yet, though if Alfred hadn't downplayed his concerns, they might have.

And they probably would have if Superman or Flash had been the one to answer since Clark knew just how bad he was and the Flash would have done anything for Wally's best friend, but since neither of them were the ones who took the call, Dick was on his own.

If he took one good hit where his stitches were, he was out of this and he knew it. He'd just have to be more careful.

Dick wasn't sure he knew what careful was, and he didn't feel like trying to butcher it around into a new word or meaning. He had a bat to find.

* * *

Batman had gone down fighting.

He'd gone down _hard._

The knowledge wasn't much of a consolation, but few things were. He wouldn't forgive himself for failing to stop the Joker. He wouldn't forgive himself for any of a hundred things, but to die now, here, like this, without saving anyone, without protecting his children or his city...

No, he'd hate that.

Which was why the Joker loved this moment, why he was about to have his ultimate triumph.

“You see, Batsy? I've won. I've really and truly won. You'll die knowing you failed. You made it all too easy for me,” Joker said, leaning in closer with the knife. Another cut, more blood, more to laugh about, more to gloat over. “Too too easy. I should file a complaint. Where is that charming little bird of yours? Or the girl? I would have thought they'd come for you by now.”

Batman struggled to move. “Not... easy...”

“Not for you, no, I suppose it wasn't, was it, Batsy? Such as shame.”

“It was easy for me,” another voice said, and the Joker whirled around only to smack straight into an eskrima stick. Some of his teeth went with the first blow, the second knocked him to the ground, and the third caused him to black out. “Way, way, too easy. Your men were more of a fight than you were.”

Batman groaned.

“I know, I know. You softened him up for me. I realize that. He's never been that easy before.” The black clad figure stopped to tie the Joker's hands and feet, then added the man's handkerchief to his mouth, sitting back with a grim smile. “Batman?”

A grunt that time. “Robin...”

“Not exactly. Come on. We'd better get you out of here before someone starts asking questions.”

* * *

“Lie still, please, Master Bruce. You are aware that you're home, aren't you?”

“Don't... Dream... Not... real...”

“I know he hates it, but I think you'd better just sedate him, Alfred,” Dick said, and Bruce's eyes found him. He didn't understand what he was seeing. Dick was wearing a mask, but that was not the Robin suit, not even a camouflage version of it. No cape. All black. Almost like Batman's suit only without the emblem and the belt and smaller. Just the right size for his son.

“No,” Bruce managed to say. He reached for Dick's hand and held it. “You... uniform...”

“It needs work, but it was surprisingly not bad to fight in,” Dick said. “Not that you left much for me. As usual.”

“You...”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I just put this on to go get you. You had Alfred worried, and with the League's hands full and the team on assignment... I did what needed to be done,” Dick said. He shook his head, and Bruce hoped that was just fatigue getting to him and not more pain. If that boy tore his stitches... “Is it wrong that this felt... right?”

“No,” Bruce said, pulling his son close to him. “It _is_ right. It... shouldn't be... but it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> I figure the conversation Dick and Jason in the flashback of In the Grotto comes not long after this part. Dick was still wearing the suit, at least, even if he hasn't picked out a name yet.
> 
> That was going to be in the group scene where they were trying to talk him into going but that got long and went in another direction and I don't think he was ready for it then. And he wasn't really ready to go back when he did, but I think he needed to see that he could and he needed a situation like this to help him see the path he wanted to take to recover.
> 
> Also... I think I read somewhere that _topolino_ means little mouse in Italian. I know it should be little bird, but I liked the sound of topolino and thought it was tripolino and mixed it with trampoline and trapeze and I'm a dork, okay?


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